The Golden Hour
by Ocean Mint Leaves
Summary: "But the land of Merlin and Arthur was better than these, and best of all the nameless North of Sigurd of the Völsungs, and the prince of all dragons. Such lands were pre-eminently desirable." - J.R.R Tolkien. Series of One-shots set on Albion's Golden Age. Merlin & Arthur Friendship.
1. Beacon in the Night ( Part 1)

If anyone would actually believe me I would tell them, scratching my head, that this took me two hours to write. Because this has to be the weirdest writing experience I've ever had to date. As soon as I finished watching 5x11 and the preview for 5x12. (I won't give any spoilers but it KILLED ME, _KILLED ME_ I tell you!) I just had the need for some Hurt/Comfort and this came out.

It made me ticklish to place this story under the Hurt/Comfort tag. I've always wanted to write something that is purely centered upon adorable bromance but I've never actually done it. Until now.

If you haven't figured it out yet this is nothing but miserable angst. Yup, I was very surprised, believe me.

Please curl up with a cup of coffee and enjoy! :)

THIS IS A FUTURE! FIC. That means it's set when Merlin's Court Sorcerer and Arthur unites Albion. And, this will be a two-shot.

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**Beacon In The Night.  
**

**Part 1.  
**

* * *

Give me your hand, my brother, search my face;  
Look in these eyes lest I should think of shame;  
For we have made an end of all things base.  
We are returning by the road we came.

-To My Brother by Siegfried Sassoon

* * *

To curse them in such a way-by striking down those poorer and needier within Albion's borders- was unthinkable. To think that she, once so compassionate and kind, was willing to watch children die and mothers cry so that she could savor her revenge had risen bile on the people's throats.

She opened the gates for the curse to ravage the land, as unmerciful and as unkind as it once had been before heroes who were never named forced it below land and bounded it with ancient power so that it could do no more harm. And after she, with crazed eyes, set her hands upon it, the shrieking nightmare was free once again.

It became known as a fatalistic winter. The wind howled with the voice of a thousand dogs and broke through every defense man placed against it, following its destructive path throughout the fields of wheat and flowers, entering in the fragile, small shacks that farmers called home and blowing away the warm light of a fire that had taken hours to achieve. The curse ravaged through the borders of Albion, broke through the pacific life of those villagers that could do nothing but watch in horror as their life was swept away.

The High King of Albion was not indifferent to his the cry of his stricken people. With the same presence of a reassuring protector, he took it upon him to travel each of the affected areas, kneeling by the side of poor, almost starved children and offering from his own hands various fruits and sacks of grain, a gentle hand on his citizen's shoulders, a soft-spoken promise of better things to come. It became a daily wonder for the outlining villagers to see their golden haired, weary-faced King guide his horse among his brethren, saying one last goodbye as he went on through the affected lands, leaving behind hearts singing with joy and faces whose sorrow had lessened considerably.

He traveled with sacks of grain and food, gave drink from multiple skins of water and provided those without a home with rich blankets and cloaks to stand the harshness of the biting winds, he gave children warm clothing and loafs of delicious bread. But if his kindness was shown through his actions then the High King's empathy with his people's suffering was engraved in each deep line that cursed through his handsome face.

Whenever the people saw this broad-shouldered warrior kneel besides those who called his name, feed those who begged for food and a drop of water and console those mothers who mourned the loss of their homes, they could barely give enough thanks to the gods for such a man. He had, once, shed off his worn Camelot-red cloak so that a weeping child could find comfort on his King's protection and the same red cloth later became that town's greatest possession.

Maybe it was the tired look upon King Arthur's noble face what first started the rumors and when it was noticed that the ever-present white stallion was missing from the High King's trustful horse's side, the simple rumors became true: their King's beloved Court Sorcerer was _not _there.

When asked- the first time by a woman who swept back her King's sweaty blond hair as he drank greedily from the well- he would explain that he'd sent Merlin ahead so that he could try and calm the ferocious winds and at the same time serve as a healer, for King Arthur knew that the furthest people were from Camelot's protective charms the hardest they were hit by the curse.

It was faith. Faith on his Court Sorcerer's word and might what drove the High King forwards. How could he, as attuned as he was with his people, see the misery that had placed such heavy shadows upon their hearts and not break down but, instead, offer his unbreakable support and the assurance of his eyes?

It was the child he'd covered with Camelot red- (one who never let go of his precious gift and, when he was older, would raise it as an emblem for the late Golden King.) -who noticed it first.

He had seen with curious eyes as the King sat on a wooden bench and wrote a few sentences by candlelight. Smiling as he did so, almost as if in writing he was recalling happier times.

"What are you doing?" the child had asked.

Those blue eyes of his King had pierced right through his little body, as if they were lighting coming down from the open skies. But their intensity was contrasted by the lightheartedness and affection of his smile.

"I am writing a letter to an old friend." The High King answered and there was a twinkle upon his eyes that had been gone for a while. "He wants to know how I'm doing and I-" he reached out to ruffle the child's hair with his tanned, calloused hand. "-am telling him about your mother's delicious stew."

"Oh." the boy said and then, with the simplicity of children, he added. "You must miss him then."

The High King's eyes softened and he laid a hand upon his brow as he sought with his kind gaze that of the child. It was nothing more than a whisper, and although it was strong and did not quiver, the boy could still hear all that was unsaid behind it.

"_Yes_." was all King Arthur said. And the shadows flickered upon them both as the candlelight trembled and the wind howled outside." Terribly."

And then the High King waited, with blood-shot eyes that spoke of his sleepless nights, for that owl who'd become a wonder on its own.

Because, where it day or night, no matter where he was at, the people always saw a tawny owl land besides their King and, to their astonishment, bring with it a piece of parchment that King Arthur would later explain were letters from Merlin. The tawny owl would screech affectionately before departing.

The animal was named Archimedes and Merlin had taught the office of a messenger dove. "Only Merlin-" King Arthur had said, chuckling. "…would think in such a way. It comes in handy though I don't think _anyone else_ will ever do it."

Then, along came the day in which no owl came to greet the King with words his beloved advisor had scrambled down in a hurry. Deep into the night and almost until first light, the High King stood, looking over the snowy fields, waiting.

The owl did not come and King Arthur, although paler, took comfort on the fact that, had something happen to Merlin, he would've _known._

Seeing the absence of the owl that had become almost a constant, the people's anxiety was almost palpable but all King Arthur did was frown and continue his repartition of supplies with that distinctive warm timbre of his.

Later, sitting down around a bonfire with sufficient food and clothing, King Arthur would tell stories about his youth, about a clumsy manservant who was his best friend and a beautiful maidservant named Guinevere, about brave knights that would later become part of his Round Table and a wise physician named Gaius. And with these stories that could very well be fairytales, the people forgot the hunger and cold they were suffering and hung on to each and every word that came from King Arthur's mouth.

That's how the High King became one with his people and was soon a part of them all, as if his noble heart had won a place inside each of their chests. They dreaded the moment they would see him depart towards another needy village and wondered how they could ever repay their Golden King or '_Arthur_' as he was affectionately called amongst them, all that he had done and brought with his dazzling smile and kind eyes.

"Please, none of that." he would say whenever one approached him with gifts and riches. "I want nothing but your happiness in return. All I want is for you to live in peace."

It brought tears to the eyes of many and wondrous joy to the hearts of them all.

Then, out of nowhere, after the night had enveloped them all with its warmth, it occurred. The howling winds died down and the earth was no longer cold and empty under its blanket of ashes, the freezing air became easier to breathe and the light of the bonfire did not waver, not once.

King Arthur stopped in the middle of his tale about a legion of noble knights and looked up with eyes as brilliant as the stars that could now be seen above them.

He then doubled over and clutched his heart and the lazy ambience was suddenly over when the people reacted to their pained King. Multiple hands were placed upon his brow and his cheek, some called for a healer or a physician and others just tried to bring back their King's clouded gaze from whatever mysterious visions they were seeing.

But then, as sudden as it had been, it was over.

A horse's nigh broke the stillness of the night. Before the wide eyes of those who had crowed around him the High King rose to his feet and stumbled blindly towards the sound, his clumsy race through the frozen ground growing more urgent with each passing moment.

Along with the thundering hooves of a white horse came the shriek of an owl and it was then when the High King let out all that he had known since the moment his heart had been shaken so violently inside his chest. And what came from his lips was but a whisper that chilled the blood of those who saw the terror flare in his pale eyes. "…_Merlin_…"

The thickness of the snow proved to be no match for the High King of Albion, running through it and making his way to the stark-white horse that bore in its back a half-slumped rider.

The villagers watched as their beloved King reached the horse's side and immediately wrapped his gloved fingers on the reigns, as if to guide the animal and it's rider to more secure grounds. He reached out with his other hand to the cloaked man's shoulder, calling a name once, twice, until two bleary eyes blinked at him from below the hood.

Those who were close enough to their King could see the relieved grins that engulfed both of the man's faces when their eyes connected over the huffing horse and the dying coldness of the night. Then, after a few whispered questions from Arthur and muttered answers from his Court Sorcerer, Arthur's light blue eyes brightened with something no one knew was missing.

Then, as sharp as Excalibur's hilt, the High King's profound voice resounded through the snowy plains with uncovered panic, calling out Merlin's name as the thin man on the horse arched and clutched his chest in the same way Arthur had done a few moments ago.

The King's slightly hysteric scream rose over them all and spurned them into action as he, no longer frozen in extreme fright, reached out for The Emrys and tugged on that bony wrist as he called Merlin's name once again.

Merlin, complacent for once, did not argue but fell into his King's awaiting arms and Arthur held upright this thin, cloaked man that was his best friend, trembling with fever and something deeper that had shaken the _core_ of his being. There were a few moments of silence in which King Arthur realized his red cape was gone and he could give his friend nothing more than his body heat to warm him and, with the thought striking, a cry rose up from his throat, one so full of naked fear and worry that he would've found it embarrassing were he the young arrogant prince Merlin had found so many years ago.

But he was that prince no longer and he felt nothing but the rush of panic growing in his blood when his fingers touched Merlin's ice cold skin and he looked right into the blue eyes that held within them such wisdom, now gazing weakly up at him from drooping eyelids. And as it all _came together_ and old concerns danced beneath his eyelids, Arthur's heart sped up as if it's sole purpose was to escape his chest.

His voice, at times so commanding and always dripping with assurance, cried out with a desperate timbre that not one of his subjects had ever heard before.

"_Help!"_

And even if the frailty on the call was disheartening. (Their King had always been the unbreakable epitome of strength and in the direst of circumstances he was always the faithful, fearless warrior that never cowered.) not a breath went by before those thankful villagers raced over where their King was kneeling, the women whispering assurances and covering the warlock with their thick cloaks, the men trying to pry Arthur's arms away from his freezing best friend, a task that was impossible since through it all they both clung to each other as if there was nothing else on earth and through their eyes they held a silent communication that was underlined by the King swiping back the sorcerer's fringe from time to time and muttering curses beneath his breath.

Merlin, as pale as the snow below them, had closed his tired eyes after a while although his hand sought Arthur's and clutched onto it as if it was a lifeline. And it was true, for both of them.

Finally, in a cocoon of blankets and warm cloaks, the Court Sorcerer of Albion was gently placed in a makeshift stretcher and the men, who owed the stricken King their lives, gingerly carried him towards the physician's home.

Not once did the King let go of his old friend's pale hand.

The King's eyes were glinting in the flickering torch light as they reached the humble shack. He immediately rounded the bed that was kept for overnight patients and sat there on his knees, guiding his warlock's head gently so that it would rest on his lap, brushing back unruly black hair as he did so.

"Sire, is there- is there _anything_ we can do?"

Arthur, almost unwillingly, raised his gaze from Merlin and looked up at a young woman whom he'd defended from the cruelty of the biting winter and whose children had showered him with kisses when he'd calmed down their hunger with blessed loafs of bread.

She was named Clarisse although Arthur did not know that. She would be forever grateful to her golden King for providing her and her children with protection, food and kindness, would forever give thanks to the gods for giving the land of Albion such a compassionate man to be its ruler.

And her heart broke at the sight of the High King, hunched over his friend's face, whispering things that she could not begin to comprehend.

"Anything?" she asked gently, boring with her kind gaze that of her golden King.

"He's freezing." The King said in a murmur. His placed his hand again, with the softest of touches, in the sorcerer's pale brow and the pained expression upon his warlock's face lessened, as if the presence of his king was enough to alleviate the blinding pain inside his body.

Merlin opened his eyes, two slits of soft, clouded blue, and met his soul-brother's gaze, forcing his hand upon Arthur's own as if to reassure and comfort him, letting his King hold it inside his own with studied care. Then he opened his mouth, maybe to speak. But before he could another wave of agony hit him, and his whole body arched once again as a scream, resembling a wounded dragon, erupted from his throat.

Two lonely tears slipped from the High King's blood-shot eyes and trailed down his unshaven cheeks.

"It's my entire fault." Arthur told him as he tightened the grasp he had on his dearest friend's shaking hand and bit back the unbearable_ agony_ at seeing Merlin in such pain.

"Don't you _dare_ blame yourself." Merlin managed through his dry throat and it was as if his voice soothed Arthur's very soul. "This is all Morgana's doing."

Nonetheless the King's eyes were still clouded with heartbreaking guilt when Merlin sought his gaze once again and at the sight – for he knew Arthur's soul better than his own- he let one of his impish smiles fill his lips.

"Arthur-" The warlock placed aside all of the heart-eating torment inside his veins and offered his sorrowful King a soft gaze filled with warmth. "-it will pass. Trust me."

However the promise could very well be empty. Was the comfort in knowing that such pain would be over within a few hours enough to erase the ones filled of blinding pain ahead of him?

Arthur's incredulous gaze told Merlin his King did not believe it but he said nothing. And perhaps it was the pain that stormed in Merlin's blue eyes what urged Arthur to squeeze that hand between his own and look for anything- _anything_ that could make this right.

"We'll get through this_ together_." The High King assured his warlock and Merlin was grateful for the fire that his eyes now held which fueled his own bravery and inflamed his weary heart with deep trust for his King and friend. "We will. I promise you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Merlin breathed with a soft smile. "Thank you, my King."

Another wave of torment struck him then, and Merlin looked away so that Arthur could not see the agony reflected in his eyes. But yet, the High King _felt_ it and it was, if anything, worse.

"_Merlin-"_

"We both knew this would be a possibility Arthur." Merlin interrupted him with a soft whisper; one that echoed in the silence of the empty shack, though the people had gathered outside and became incensed with a newborn respect and love for their High King.

Arthur let go of his friend's shaking hand so that he could place it upon Merlin's heart and, with his eyes closed, thanked the gods on high for giving his friend such power. For _giving _The Emrys to the Once and Future King so selflessly, even though he did not deserve- nor would he ever- that extraordinary man whom he called brother.

"I should've looked for an alternative."

Merlin placed his own hand over Arthur's and looked up at those brimming eyes, shaking his head softly.

"No." he whispered resolutely, feeling his King swipe back the messy fringe of dark hair and thinking, on a deep and long forgotten part of his conscience, how much Arthur's touch resembled that of his mother. "You were running out of time Arthur. It was the _only_ way."

Now the light of the candlelight half-hid Arthur's face with dark shadows and Merlin could only see one tearful sky-blue eye when he spoke. "It shouldn't have been _you."_

"You would've put another one through this, even sacrificed an innocent life?" Merlin said, his voice full of sympathy. "Arthur, not even the greatest of Camelot's enemies deserve this-"

His voice died down when he perceived Arthur was clenching his jaw so tight that one muscle jumped and his eyes swelled with some deep emotion that preceded a tremulous and constricted whisper. "That thing is _eating you_ from the inside."

"I'm _magic _Arthur." Merlin corrected softly, reaching up so that he could wipe away a tear that was slowly descending through Arthur's cheek. "No one but _me_ could stand this and stay alive. It will soon stop and I will still have _more than enough_ power to go on."

Silence. Then, almost a childlike whisper,

"It's _hurting _you."

Merlin did not reply, any answer would've been worse than the truth. So he smiled up at his beloved King with all the reassurance that he could muster as he hid away the pain.

But his High King was not fooled by Merlin's efforts and he could do nothing but bite back the frustrated scream that was rising on his throat and whisper instead, fighting to regain control of that part of his soul that was Merlin's and that was _drowning_ in deep agony _with him._

"_Merlin_…."

Though Arthur had already shed tears this time they were not the silent droplets that had, earlier, cursed through his face. Now, the High King let out all of his impotence and frustration when he bent down to press his forehead with that of his sorcerer as Merlin, pursing his lips, shook with the force of the poison inside his blood.

His sworn protector had saved his kingdom from starvation and even more losses but…at what cost?

"You think too much you dollop head." Merlin's voice whispered, right beside his ear and Arthur knew that, through their bounded soul, Merlin had somehow reached the deepest recess of his heart and read in it his thoughts. "This is nothing, Arthur. Think about all the families we're saving…"

And Arthur did. He let his mind wonder, guided gently by Merlin's soothing words and finding comfort on the warlock's heartbeat, steady below his hand. He found that his warlock's selfless and pure soul was_ ecstatic_ with the immediate relief that his magic had brought throughout the land and had actually shed tears of happiness as the cold winds died down and the fields became fertile once more.

Merlin told him in hushed words how he had rushed to his King's side, eager to tell Arthur about the success of the quest and how he wouldn't have to worry about his people starving and dying because of Morgana's hateful actions. But of course his body, weary from the spell and deprived from his life-force -his magic- being corrupted on the inside by the dark curse, had become but a heavy burden to carry.

What as sight it was, the Pendragon's blond hair and Arthur's wide eyes! Never had Merlin been so grateful to see the man he called a brother.

"It's over Arthur." He finally whispered, wincing as another wave of pain hit him but smiling at his King nonetheless. "It's all over. You don't have to fear for your kingdom anymore. It's safe. They are all safe."

As he pulled back and, in a gesture so unlike him that it startled Merlin awake, placed both of his hands on the sides of his sorcerer's face -forcing Merlin to look up at him -Arthur did nothing to hide all the affection that his words held.

"Don't doubt for a second, old friend." He said with a heartfelt though strained tone . "That your own safety is as important to me as that of my kingdom."

His voice slowly turned commanding, the one the High King used to address his subjects and subdue them under his hypnotic gaze. "You keep doing these selfless sacrifices for me, Merlin." He continued. "And take risks that_ I_ am_ not_ willing to take. As much as it pains me to admit it-" he did not sound pained at all and if there was any pain in his voice it only underlined Merlin's own. "-I cannot do this without you."

"I won't go, Arthur." Merlin whispered with one last, lazy smile directed towards his King. "I won't leave you, I promise."

And so Arthur watched sadly as Merlin's eyelids began to droop, heavy with exhaustion and pain, and not even his warlock's strong desire to stay awake for his King was enough to pull him away from the relief sleep offered.

Throughout the night Arthur remained awake, and with him, the people's hearts.

* * *

The title is a reference to Sarah Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson's song, 'Winter Song.' It's a beautiful, beautiful piece of art.

Now that THAT'S out of the way I will go and fangirl over episode 5x12 ( the preview, that is.) again. And again. And again. Because I can't get enough of it and my heart hurts at the thought of Christmas' Eve.

(Quick shout out to Oz: The poem is titled _' to my brother...'_ * wipes tears* and it's so perfect...)

P.S.

I couldn't resist writing the owl. *sheepish grin.* Besides, I think letters between these two are something that should be done...*ponders*


	2. Arthur, Merlin & the New Problem

First of all, yes, the previous chapter _will _have a second part. Second of all, yes I hit a huge writer's block and a minor case of laziness after finishing the first one. Last of all, did the title and cover page of this changed? Yes! How observant of you! :D

An awesome human being requested a fic from me a while ago and I realized that I couldn't do it in first person's POV. Then, the conundrum was _'where do I put it?_' which is why I decided to re-name this little fic and make it a separate thing for all of this AU Golden Age stuff where I don't have to do it in 1st person's POV.

I realize that OC's are not everyone's cup of tea so fair warning, this kind of centers around one. However, if you'd like some fluffiness, adorable little kids and Arthur & Merlin banter/ bromance then be my guest!

Request from Oz ( Captain Ozone here if you want to check her awesomeness out.):"_Speaking of, if you could write a fun, fluff piece with young!Amhar, I'd love you forever!" _and I realize that's been literally _forever _*sheepish grin.* Sorry about that! I'm sending you a thousand hugs to make it all better!

And I think it goes without saying but this is dedicated to you, Oz. :D

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**Arthur, Merlin, and the New Problem.**

* * *

Were it raining or snowing, cloudy or sunny, Merlin _knew_ that Gwen's absence, sooner or later, preluded disaster. That's why he was not surprised at all when Gaius' wooden door creaked open and a pair of feet he knew better than his own heart stomped around.

"I need your help."

Only then did The Great Emrys look up from the book he'd buried his nose into and smiled as King Arthur sat dejectedly on the chair beside him.

"Nothing new there." He said softly, taking his feet down from Gaius' worktable and resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards his King, giving Arthur all his attention. "What's wrong?"

The High King looked around the physician's chambers with downcast eyes and Merlin followed his gaze, raising his eyebrows when Arthur cleared his throat and said, sounding as if he'd lost a melee. "Guinevere asked something of me while she's away."

Merlin's eyebrows shot higher. "…_Right_."

"It's something she considers _really_ important."

"And it would be helpful if you stop rambling and spit it out, Arthur."

"_Mer_lin." The High King glared at him. "This is serious. Guinevere asked me to make Amhar eat all of his vegetables."

Merlin couldn't help but burst out in laughter when Arthur's cheeks reddened and his pouting, reluctant expression turned into a scowl that later gave way to his growl of: "Its. Not. Funny. _Mer_lin." as he jabbed his finger into his Court Sorcerer's chest with every word. "_Shut up."_

His warlock didn't seem to share his opinion and slammed his hands on his knees, shaking with laughter. "What," he managed between gasps for air. "You can't deal with a six year old?"

"I'd like to see you try." Arthur shot back, narrowing his eyes. "He argues his way out of every single meal."

"I would've thought you'd be proud. He's a good negotiator."

"_Guinevere's_ got good advocating skills. Amhar's downright terrifying."

"So you need my superior wit to come to your aid?"

"Hardly." He let out a twisted smile fill his lips when he saw that Merlin had understood what the twinkle in the High King's eyes meant and made a face in alarm before Arthur announced it." _I've got a plan_."

Knowing that he would never be able to finish his volume of _'Magical Herbs and their Properties.' _Merlin let the book aside and propped his feet on the table, rubbing his temples. "This will be exactly like all of those times I warn you about all the possible ways it could go wrong and you completely ignore me, am I right?"

Arthur flashed him a dazzling grin. "You're getting the gist of it Merlin. It's nice to know it only took you twenty years."

"You can't say I didn't warn you." Merlin muttered to himself when Arthur scooted closer and cleared his throat, looking as excited as when he was a young prince and Merlin a young manservant about to go hunting.

"When I was a child," he began, unconsciously gesturing as if he was addressing the Court. "My father told me stories of scary monsters to make me eat all my food. It worked- most of the time, and I ate absolutely everything on the plate whenever he came up with another legend of magical monsters that would eat me in my sleep."

Merlin thought for a bit, taking in Arthur's boyish grin. "…You want me to help you create a story about a scary monster so that you can feed lies to your six year old son?"

"Don't be ridiculous." huffed the King. "Amhar would never fall for any story. He's not stupid."

Merlin could barely contain another fit of laughter. "Did you just call yourself stupid?"

The Emrys was too busy laughing to dodge his King when Arthur leaned over and effectively cuffed him around the head before continuing, "As I was saying. Amhar is not stupid. We'll need something plausible…something that we can prove…"

Merlin -wishing that Gwen would hurry up and come back already so that she could knock some sense into her husband- let out a sigh. "I don't see what this has to do with me."

And when he was finished with rolling his eyes and caught sight of Arthur's frankly terrifying grin he made a mental note of never letting her leave again.

"My old friend." Arthur said. "How do you feel about being your eighty year old self?"

**…**

"_This isn't going to work_, Arthur!"

"It will." Arthur announced, raising his chin confidently and doubling his speed to reach the door first and prevent his warlock from opening it as he gave some last minute instructions. "You're supposed to agree with everything I say. You got that?"

Merlin grumbled, shifted on his feet and rolled his eyes twice before muttering. "Yes,_ sire_."

Ignoring the use of his title and knowing that Merlin would forgive him eventually (once everything had gone smoothly and Amhar was obediently eating everything on his plate.) the High King of Albion let a grin unlike any other spread from one ear to another. "_Good_. We're supposed to make it scary yet believable. Is that clear?"

"It is, _my King_."

"And if he gets suspicious and gets all _Guinevere like_ and starts asking questions you just _deny deny deny_. Is that understood?"

Merlin made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't answer with one glare from his eyes and Arthur accepted that as a possible 'yes'. It was good enough for him.

Amhar was sitting on the exact same chair Arthur had left him on, dangling his legs and looking as if he was assessing every scrape on the table with his keen brown eyes. The moment Merlin walked through the door, though, his face lit up and a smile immediately settled upon his lips as he extended his arms in welcome. _"Uncle Merlin!"_

"Amhar!" Merlin answered, just as delightedly, and Arthur had to use all of his self-control not to step on Merlin's foot and wipe the childish grin off his face.

"Do you know why we're here Amhar?" Arthur said, making his expression one of stoic authority although inside he was rubbing his hands together.

"To force me to eat this, I guess." was the overly enthusiastic reply.

"No. I'm here because I'm concerned for your safety." Arthur said in mock distress, placing his hand over his son's pale curls. "You see, Leon just informed me that the- um- '_The Robed Man_.'-" (1)

A snort from Merlin had him gritting his teeth but he continued on, "-The Robed Man has been spotted around the lower town."

Amhar frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Oh, gods." Merlin said, flopping himself down a chair with an overly dramatic flair. "You don't know who The Robed Man is, do you?"

The little prince began to lose his cheeriness_. "Should I?"_

"He's a sorcerer." Arthur leaned closer as he spoke, trying to stop his lips from twitching upwards. "That went down a very dark road. He was cursed to...um…"

"….transform the children that are poorly nurtured into gooses." Merlin said, almost as if he'd been waiting to finish Arthur's half-baked story. "He can't really help it. That's why you have to be weary."

"Oh." Amhar stared at his food before blinking up to his father. "What if I don't want to be a goose?"

"Then you'll have to eat your vegetables."

"What if I don't want to do that_ either_?"

Arthur frowned at the nonexistent fear that shone clear and bright on his son's open face. He supposed he should be proud but it was extremely irritating under the circumstances. "Then he'll probably devour you after he- er…"

"…turns you into a goose." Merlin supplied.

Arthur smiled triumphantly and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, that."

"Father, you do realize that there's absolutely no way this man can just come out of nowhere and _conveniently _appear now that you want me to eat these _things_, right?"

Arthur opened his mouth to close it again and scrunched his face in frustration.

"…He doesn't _come out of nowhere_." The High King said lamely.

Merlin got into an overly generous mood all of the sudden and took pity of Arthur's pouting expression. With another roll of his eyes the warlock stepped in. "Amhar, believe me, this is something serious."

Amhar turned towards him with a warm smile. "Oh, I'm not worried." he assured with too bright eyes. "You'd blast him if he tried to turn me into a goose, wouldn't you Uncle Merlin?"

The affection that spread throughout Merlin's chest warmed his heart and a small smile made his way through his pursed lips. But Arthur stopped him before he could lean over and hug his godson, assuring him that '_of course I would!_'

"Now, see here." Arthur said, rubbing his face with studied distress. "Merlin is off to visit Hunith this evening. Aren't you _Mer_lin?"

"I am?" This time Arthur did step on his foot. "…_I am_."

"I'm afraid this isn't going to be taken lightly now, my boy." Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "You need to eat all of that or-"

"Or…" Amhar's face lit up once again and Merlin could almost see a younger prince Arthur shine through his features. "I could stay with the knights! That would be great!"

"Yes_- No_. No….Wait, that's not what I…"

But before Arthur could finish off whatever he wanted to blurt out Amhar had already hugged his father's midsection and then Merlin's before running out of the room.

"Right." squaring his shoulders and trying his best to ignore Merlin's smirk, the High King of Camelot grabbed his Court Sorcerer by the elbow and practically dragged him towards the physician's chambers. "It's time for phase two Merlin."

**…**

"Arthur I_ really_ don't think this is a good idea…"

"Will you just shut up and make your fuddy-duddy potion already?"

Watching Arthur poke the fire and smirking at the sight of his seething King, Merlin whispered an enchantment for the spices that he was grinding. Looking up again, he shook his head. "As your First Advisor I am _advising_ you-"

"And as your King I a_ ordering_ you." Arthur huffed, crossing his arms on his chest and glaring. "Now stop babbling and _work_."

As usual, Merlin ignored an order that most would've taken at heart. "…If Gwen was here she would tell you this is madness."

"If Guinevere was here we _wouldn't _have this problem in the first place."

"You're right!" Merlin exclaimed, sounding a bit too much as if he was having a brilliant idea. "Arthur, think for once. _What is it about Gwen that stops this from happening?"_

The High King let out a half-concealed snort. "I honestly don't know. I've tried everything I know of but nothing works. He just- he just-"

"…talks his way out of it rather brilliantly, yes." Merlin finished for him with a fond smile, turning around and holding the potion above his head, swirling its contents. "I think it's ready."

The High King only nodded with his head and Merlin grimaced before downing the bluish liquid.

Properly speaking, Arthur had never seen the transformation happening and it amused Merlin to no end seeing his King's blond eyebrows shot up almost above his hairline and his nose wrinkle while both curiosity and downright fascination swirled for dominance inside his light blue eyes. Merlin could feel his face changing, morphing into that of an eighty year old man, and when it was over Arthur's smile was so wide that his face might have split in two.

"There," he said, smirking and nodding, as Merlin hunched over his old bones and sat on a chair. " If this doesn't scare him I don't know what will."

"Ah," if Arthur's smirk grew at Merlin's hoarse and guttural tone the warlock ignored it, choosing to crack his back instead. "…the things I do for you Arthur Pendragon."

"The things you do for me, indeed." Arthur repeated, sounding oddly thoughtful. But the mischievous glint on his eyes that Merlin had learned to associate with stupid decision and expeditions to the Valley of the Fallen Kings was back a second later and with it, Arthur's resolve.

"Come on," he said, taking Merlin's bony, old arm, and guiding him out the door. "Let's go."

"Stop pushing me around, I'm fifty years older than you!"

"_Shut up_!"

And on they went the King and his Sorcerer, one shuffling with a cane for support, the other almost jumping in his boyish excitement. This time, when Arthur gestured with his hands so that Merlin would tiptoe towards Amhar's royal chambers, the warlock gave his King a well-deserved whack in the head with his cane.

"Don't say a word." Merlin warned with his raspy voice as Arthur rubbed his head and glared. "You deserved it."

Arthur huffed, following his own advice and tiptoeing exaggeratedly. "After this is over I'll have you in the stocks for a- _OW_! _Stop hitting me_!"

"That's not way to speak to your elders, young King!" Merlin shook a crooked finger at his nose as he lowered the cane back to the floor.

"_Mer_lin!"

But before Arthur's face could get any redder the old warlock had already disappeared as he merged into the shadows of the corridor.

In hindsight, Merlin should have known what was awaiting him. His godson was not stupid but neither was he imprudent. When he dragged his feet across the floor and opened his mouth, beginning a guttural '_boo!_' he essentially planned on kneeling by Amhar's bedside next and explain to him _why_ he should eat everything that Mary put in his plate. However, he'd barely put a foot inside his prince's room when he found himself looking at the ceiling after a yowling figure tackled him to the ground. Amhar's soft brown eyes, so much like Guinevere's, appeared on his field of vision and one of his blond curls tickled Merlin's wrinkled nose.

The child didn't miss a beat. "_Uncle Merlin_?"

He groaned in response and Gwaine's face appeared besides Amhar, looking very much like an excited puppy. "Merlin, mate!"

He had barely blinked twice, cursing his old age and the way his bones creaked, when Gwaine propped him up and hugged him tight. " Princess junior here said you were going to Ealdor! I thought I hadn't gotten to say goodbye!"

"Wait, wait." Merlin said, whirling around to face a smug looking six year old prince. "How did you know it was me?"

"Oh," said Amhar, grinning toothily and climbing back to his bed with total peace of mind, as if all was right with the world once more. "It was_ your eyes_ Uncle Merlin!" (2)

"Ah." Merlin cleared his throat. "...You never did believe your father, did you?"

"I asked Leon and Uncle Elyan about The Robe Man and they both laughed." Amhar explained, suddenly very serious. "Gwaine was the only one who agreed to stay with me, just in case."

"I've seen some strange things 'round the world, mate." Gwaine explained after Merlin had raised his eyebrow in his direction. "A _cuckoo_ man that goes around transforming children into gooses is nothing out of the ordinary."

Amhar nodded, looking every bit like Arthur when he was facing the Council.

"This was all Princess, wasn't it?" when Merlin rolled his eyes Gwaine let out a hearty laugh. "I knew it."

Not one second went by before the little prince wrapped his arms around Merlin's belly, forcing him to sit down besides him, Apparently not caring at all that the warlock had aged about forty years in a heartbeat. Then again, Amhar had probably already assumed it was the work of magic.

Sighing, Merlin placed an aged hand on his godson's blond curls, mussing them softly. "Why won't you just do as you're told, hmm?"

Amhar didn't pull away but looked up, blinking with an innocence that no one should be able to pull off. "Have you seen what Helga cooks?" he whispered, grimacing in disgust. "Sometimes...I really think the food _moves_."

Merlin winced and Amhar smiled disarmingly again. "See Uncle Merlin? Even _you_ know how _awful_ it is!"

And know it Merlin did. When Mary had gone away to visit her family for a week and Helga, the second-in-command cook, had begun making all their meals, he'd found out what true horror really was.

"Tell you what..." Merlin said. Amhar climbed to his knees and looked into his godfather's eyes, his own sparkling with attention. "I'll help you with that if you _promise_ to eat everything. Deal?"

The little prince nodded seriously.

"Pinky promise?"

When Amhar's little finger wrapped around his Merlin's couldn't help but marvel at the sight of his old, feeble finger and Amhar's, who gazed at him with complete trust. "Promise, Uncle Merlin."

**...**

"What part of 'he has to eat his spinach _Mer_lin' did you not understand?"

With a magnificent roll of his eyes and a lopsided smile Merlin placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder and sighed good naturedly, pointing at Amhar with his thumb. "He is eating his spinach, you _dollop head._"

The High King scowled. "It doesn't _look_ like it."

"A simple transformation spell." Merlin said cheerfully, "I've always thought that Helga presented vegetables rather poorly. What do you have against green pudding anyway?"

Arthur's face was now beet red. "No son of mine is going to get away with this!"

"No one is getting away with anything Arthur." Merlin said calmly.

"I can't believe it! You- all of you!" he pointed an accusatory finger towards the knights and glared at Gwaine, who was cheerily chewing his own portion of green pudding. "You're all giving him what he wants- and _you_!" he jabbed his other half's chest with his finger. "You _spoil_ him senseless!"

"I'm _not_ spoiling him."

"Yes you are!"

"I'm not!"

"Are you _blind_?"

The knights, most of them sporting exhausted expressions, looked back and forth between them. Gwaine's hand was stopping Lancelot from standing up and breaking the argument. That's why none of them saw the frowning figure that had stopped at the door frame, slowly placing both of her hands on her hips.

"_What is going on here?_"

Merlin and Arthur whirled around and Amhar stood on his chair, reaching out with his arms as he let out a gleeful, "_Mummy_!"

The Queen of Camelot ignored Merlin and Arthur's simultaneous,"You're back!" and rushed to embrace her son with all of her heart. However, she looked towards them as soon as she caught sight of what was on the plate.

"Merlin." she said, apparently piecing together what she'd heard with what she was seeing, understanding the situation with a glance. "Come change this back."

Merlin sighed, avoided Arthur's toothy grin, and muttered the counter spell. As soon as he was done the Queen knelt besides her son and took his hand in hers.

"Sweetheart, you _know_ you have to eat this without any magical help from Merlin."

Amhar let out a very Arthur-like huff. "I know, Mum. But have you _looked_ at this?" he pointed at the food that had returned to its normal appearance and taste, sticking his tongue the littlest bit.

"Sometimes we have to do things we don't like." Gwen answered softly with a knowing smile. "Like when your father fills the tax reports or when Uncle Elyan wakes up early to train. But you know what?"

Amhar's eyes sparkled. "What?"

"Those things make us stronger." the Queen said, kissing her son's nose. "Especially when we do things we don't like for the ones we love. Like Uncle Merlin does for your father." and perhaps it was her way of getting a quiet revenge for both Arthur and Merlin flushed behind her and a corner of her mouth twitched. Amhar, nevertheless, only beamed wider.

"So, how about you eat that spinach now?"

"Because I love you and that'll make you happy?"

"Yes." Gwen kissed her little prince's forehead as she stood up. "Will you do that for me?"

Amhar bit his lip, almost as if he was considering a life changing decision. But in the end his face softened and he smiled as he nodded.

"_Okay_."

Gwen smiled again, straightened her cloak and turned around to give her husband a kiss and her best friend a hug, ignoring their wide eyes as they saw Amhar eat his food without complaining. With a short, "_Gentlemen_." she walked out to find her brother. Leon followed suit and so did the rest of the knights, Gwaine still stuffing his own green pudding into his mouth.

Merlin glanced at his King and gestured towards the door with a small smile. "She's right, you know?" he pointed out. "I never really liked mucking out your stables."

The High King shook his head fondly, all his anger forgotten, and placed one arm around his warlock's shoulders as they walked.

"I know." Arthur answered gently, ruffling Merlin's hair with his hand. "And I was never fond of sneaking out to go _herb picking_." (3)

Merlin eyes softened.

"I know." he said.

* * *

Somehow this turned out _sappy_. Meh.

(1) This is the same man that came up with 'the body of a lion and the face of a bear.'

(2) I just couldn't resist. This is Arthur's quote:_ "Your eyes. We've met somewhere before._" during 3x10. Am I the only one who thinks that's one of the most bromantic quotes of the show? Is it only me?

(3) Reference to 1x4, the Poisoned Chalice.

Now, this…._this_ was inspired by my Dad's ridiculous attempts at the exact same thing, though he went through the trouble of getting a cell phone that was supposed to be 'Santa's' cell phone, one he answered with a low _'Ho ho ho!'_

But I love him for trying, even if he never realized I found "Santa's phone" about two days after he told me about it. :) (I was an eight year old when he tried his little ruse by the way. :P) I still tease him about it and he's all like "I SWEAR it was real!" even though it's been ten years since then and I'm well aware that there's no Santa. Oh, Daddy. I love him.

Anyway, Oz I know you LOVE Dragoon so I decided to give Dragoon some love! Sorry if it's downright hideous in it's OOC'ness. *another hug to make up for it* Have an awesome week!

Much love to all of you!

Ocean.


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